Run Run Run, as Fast as You Can
by Emmynemmy
Summary: The Dark Lord was victorious, and the wizarding world was thrown into spiralling dissary... or was it? Voldemort was obviously laying low, which let the ministry gather a crack team of witches and wizards together to stop him before he starts.


Hermione had always worked hard, so why were people so animent on making her slow down, relax, see friends and family? She had an important job...( after all she was the girl most likely). She worked in the Ministry, and had possibly one of the most important jobs a person could have. She was the person in charge of the collection of information about Lord Voldemort. Important job? Yes, very important.

Ever since Voldemort was victorious in the battle at the school grounds Hogwarts, the wizarding world had been plunged into darkness. People were being killed, families were being torn apart and life didn't seem worth living. The epic battle, against the 'Boy Who Lived' was still talked about today, with misty eyes and thick throats a year afterward. The boy who lived no more, was killed in the battle, and the Dark Lord really was now Lord.

There was still, however, a Ministry bent on destroying the security threat, in fact that was the main focus of the Ministry now-a-days (right behind that was trying to keep the people of the wizarding community safe). They spent their days trying to battle against open and active Deatheaters, as well as chasing rumours and tips about any information involving Lord Voldemort.

After the battle, as was expected, dark magic had risen, but Voldemort still seemed content on biding his time in hiding. Yes, he did frequent in public places (spreading terror, reminding people of why they should be scared) but he was rarely heard of...but his Deatheaters were always 'Doing Their Masters Work'. People had expected Voldemort to take some elaborate throne, to sit and bark orders, to paste his picture everywhere... none of that had happened, in fact it took a few months until after the battle for the Dark Magic to even make itself known. It seemed that Voldemort was far too busy to take over the country (which is what the Minister liked to believe) Hermione however, knew that this was not the case... he was biding his time, something big was going to happen.. It was not like Voldemort to give up, and it was not like Voldemort to do things slowly, or step by step... He was waiting for one huge spectacular and war ending display, that would probably eradicate half bloods and muggles alike.

It was dark times for Hermione, and she had to work to stop what she had predicted coming to light. She followed as many leads as she possibly could, in fact she wouldn't even leave the office days at a time... working through the nights. She didn't like sleep, it reminded her of the people she had lost. Ronald was the only person who really made an attempt to contact her now-a-days. He hadn't given up on her, in fact he was the one that regularly pestered her to visit his family, saying that they all missed her, and that she needed to stop... But that wasn't an option.

It was nearing two am, and Hermione sat at her desk, with so much papers stacked on it, she needed to use a hovering charm to that they wouldn't all fall. She had just returned in fact from a tip off that stated the whereabouts of Pettigrew... the trip was nothing more than a waste of time. She was tired, her eyes were sunken and dark, her body shook almost all the time now, and she had paled and thinned to an almost unattractive state . She read and re-read the papers that had been placed in sequential order on her table. First was the news paper article which read with the headline 'Potter Fails to Save Wizarding World, All Hope is Lost' which gave an emotional re telling of the final battle. The next paper was a report, a month summarised, where the Ministry was trying to find any information they could about Voldemort, but simply stated that he was unactive in this month. The next paper was sent from the prison Azkaban, a telling of escaped prisoners, which told of big Deatheater names, the likes of Crabbe, Greengrass and Malfoy. The fourth paper was a hand written letter, signed by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, who was informing the ministry that she had decided to take up residents in Hogwarts, and any students that would be sent there in September would be killed on the spot. The next lot of papers was in a pile, all memos about tips, hints, rumours and information reports, all from the last month.

Hermione yawned as she pushed the pile of papers of her desk, all of them useless, all of them a waste of time. She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes, vaguely wondering what others in her age level had done with their lives since last year, what they had become, what they were doing... if they were alive.

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Draco was pacing in his room, the place he had been spending almost all of his time since he had left school last year. He had learnt quickly that having an important father means that a lot of important guests and important requests are brought into the house... In fact the last time he left his room, he was asked to carry out one of these important tasks. It seems that somebody had blabbed some of the truths that the Dark Lord wanted to be kept quiet, and now they had to pay.

Well, obviously it wasn't the first time the Dark Lord asked him to kill somebody... Oh how he had paid for that though... failing to kill Dumbledore, that was in fact the first time he had met his Dark Lord, and the first time he felt his power... he was scared from the experience, not just on the inside, but the cruciatus curse being so powerful that it split the skin on his back. He was punished too badly he wished Voldemort had used the killing curse over the torturous never ending pain, the terror that it would go on forever or that it was twist his mind like it had before... but it had stopped, and he was sent home by a disrespected and disappointed father.

He lived in his room, under covers far too terrified to leave... he didn't eat... couldn't sleep... dared to think. Slowly he had been healing himself, it had been five months, and he had been talking to others, roaming the house, which is how he found himself in the predicament. His Aunt, Bellatrix had visited, there was somebody that had to be taken care off... and...

_"Oh sissy, where is that Husband of yours, I have an order straight from the Dark Lord himself.' Bellatrix said to her sister over a vintage brandy by the fire, watching the snow dancing over the window. Draco had quietly slipped from his room into the living area, he knew he had heard her voice, and needing to know spotted her, talking to his mother. "It's really rather important you know." She added, taking a sip of his father's favourite drink, he scowled with anger... That voice, the horrid noise, the cackle of her laugh was one of the only things he could hear when he had to face Voldemort._

Intending not to look weak, Draco raised his chin and walked into the living room, refusing to look at his Aunt, moving to the liquor cabinet, there was whisky with his name on it but...

"Oh, Draco." She drawled, looking him over... those cold eyes searching him up and down. "Perfect, here's your chance boy." She said standing. Draco mused at the thought of the action, he knew that she had done it too seem condescending, but the boy loomed over her by about three inches. She looked as if she was going to take a step toward him, but stoped, just rocking on her heels. "Our master needs a job done Draco, and he feels that you are perfect for the job." She said. Draco looked darkly to his mother, her lips pursed as if she had something that she wanted to say but never would... she was weak. Draco looked back at his aunt, an eyebrow cocked, as if asking her to continue. "It seems that Crabbe's son has been blabbing some of our more important secrets.. not that he should have been trusted with them in the first place." She said, more to herself, "In any case, this is the second time that this has happened and now the problem needs to be taken care of..." She said, looking Draco up and down waiting for a reply.

"You want me to kill Crabbe?" He asked curtly, keeping his voice even and cool. It of course was not how he felt... him and Goyle were his only friends, he might not have been an emotional person, or shown them any sort of a hint of friendship... but that were all he had, he mightn't of even been able to get through schooling without them... not that he had graduated anyway...

"Of course." Bellatrix answered, as if she were asking him a simple favour like fetching some eggs on his way through town. "But, just remember what happened last time Draco." She said suddenly, this time taking her step toward him, "Like I said, the Dark Lord doesn't like a mistake being repeated, don't fuck it up this time." She spat, Draco recoiled as she spat her words at him, taking yet another look at his passive mother, stalked off back to his bedroom. 

Now Draco, pacing back and forth (as he had done for the last two days after being left with his task) was waiting. He knew that his father would be coming in to see him, to give him details about his mission. He sat on his bed, his head in his hands... why was his life full of such challenges? Sure he acted tough, but he never actually was, all he wanted was his own life. He wanted to have a mother that actually spoke to him, cared for him (he constantly yearned for her attentions), he wanted to choose his bride, romance some young girl and fall in love, maybe even find a flat in London, get a job... pushing papers in the Ministry would be a dream compared to his... tasks. He was scared out of his brain, this was just like being back in sixth year, constantly waiting... it was doing his head in.

He heard footsteps echoing down the vast hallway, and stood... Draco would always expect his guests. He straightened the suit he was wearing and pulled on his cuffs, then looked up at the door. There was a light tap tap tap on his door, before the knob turned.

So there stood Draco's father, his long silver hair shimmered falling gracefully on the shoulders of his expensive tailored suit, his cane in his hands, busying both of them. He seemed to seep power through each stitch of his clothing, and the glare that he was sending down (down the extra foot of height he had on Draco) was enough to make him wish he was anybody else but himself (he could even stand being a mudblood... or a muggle!) "Draco." He spoke, looking about the room quickly before his eyes landed on his son. "You know your task?" He asked, standing just inside the door way, sitting would be out of the option, this wasn't a father to son talk, this was business... strictly. "You will come with me to Hogwarts tomorrow in the evening, where we will meet with fellow Deatheaters." He said, his father was now really quiet important now, more now than ever, in fact he was just a step under his sister in law.

Draco nodded, looking to the floor, ever since his last failure his father refused to look him in the eyes, so to make the job easier, Draco looked to the floor whenever he was in his presence. Draco watched as his father turned and walked toward the door, then stopped, Draco actually looked up in surprise... his father was never one to forget to say something. "And Draco." He said, actually making eye contact with his son, "You don't have the option of failure this time." He said. Then walked out the door.

Draco sat back on his bed, not being able to stand seeing he was shaking so hard.

Hermione was resting at her desk... only for a moment, seeing as her hand was cramping up after signing so many of the interns observations from field trips (Hermione knew that she was also supposed to fill out the tedious reports after she returned from her trips cross-country, but she didn't have the patience... also, one was not supposed to be gallivanting alone to find the dark lord like she had been doing, and she didn't want the higher ups to know of her rebellious streak) and her eyes were beginning to strain, only having a flickering candle as light in the dark office.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the hard and cold wooden desk was a lovely resting place, as she found herself in what seemed to be the blink of an eye waking in a sunny office by a knocking on her door. Startled by the fact that sleep had actually come her head snapped up, and she forced her stiff back straight. She looked to the door, she was sure she had heard a knocking, and it hadn't been in her dream... she had a dreamless sleep she realised, for the first time in what felt like a life time. She ran a hand over her eyes, and through her hair to make herself at least half presentable, and stood. "Come in." She said, her voice was stern, she knew that it was be just an intern coming to ask her opinion on a tip off or to ask her about form 88 question 6.3 or some such nonsense. She had taken to being rather unyielding when it came to her interns, her dominance was clear, after all, it was her job to run one of the most important departments in the Ministry.

As she suspected an intern stepped into the room, holding onto a stack of papers, with yet more trailing behind her fluttering like seagulls, and folded to look as such. She ran a hand through her hair, opening her eyes wide for a moment as if to tell her body that yes, it was in fact time to wake up. She looked the girl over, she was dressed in simple black robes... no cleavage, not form fitting showing her figure... wearing sensible dress shoes... Model employee... Hermione assessed, pity she couldn't remember her name, was it Rachel?

"Miss Granger." She said, coming to her desk, "I just had a tip..." She said, rummaging through the papers in her arms, looking for the paper, she looked flustered and rushed, it was probably a rather big tip off, "Its a big one too." She said, proving Hermione right (unfortunately right answers didn't give her quiet the same satisfaction she used to get, seeing as most of her assumptions were now morbid outcomes for the war). She found the right piece of parchment and yanked it out of the stack, sending about three of four other pieces that where stuck to it on the floor, Hermione ignored it and held out her hand for the sheet... She wasn't going to speak, she hadn't had breakfast or brushed her teeth... or had time to warm up her authorities voice (well it didn't come naturally!). The intern slipped the parchment into her hand, and Hermione read through it at speed.

"The child was seven." She said as Hermione read, it was a report of an attack in the south of France, where a child was taken. "He was just put on the registry to attend Beauxbatons two days ago by the French ministry." She said, picking up the papers that fell, one of them a clipping from a muggle newspaper. The boy was stated as being 'New Blood' a new phrase that the ministry tried to enforce to replace muggle born... and mudblood. Hermione put her head in her hands as she read, using them to prop her head up, with her elbows leaning on the desk. The girl slipped the newspaper clipping on the desk, in her line of sight, it was only small, perhaps fifty words? But what was the disappearance of a seven your old French child interest the readers of _The Telegraph_. It gave a brief detail about how the parents found the boys bed empty of all but a nasty bloody stain. There had been signs of an obvious struggle, with a desk smashed, and a window shattered, toys thrown about the room and holes in walls. The biased reporter was too busy slamming the parents for not waking up to such an ordeal, rather than reporting on the facts, Hermione pushed the clipping away disgusted... How easy would it have been for a wizard to break in a cast a silencing charm... or worse having a... "We suspect that the culprit is Greyback." She said, Hermione watched as she shuddered saying the name... Hermione pondered for a moment what she would do if she spat out Voldemort name.

She let out a deep sigh, and signed off on the sheet the intern had summarized the report on. "I guess I will have to go to '_Le Gouvernement de Magie_' to see what is being done." Hermione said, standing abruptly. The muggles would need their memories cleaned, and a 'police' force will need to be sent to investigate, she didn't need the muggles tramping about in a room that could be use full... residue magic could work wonders for trying to find a location, and she could confirm that it was in fact werewolves that attacked. She stood and walked to the door, picking up her travellers cloak as she passed, then looked to the intern. "Good job..." She said, trailing off, she didn't know the girls name, but believed praise to be important all the same, this about be a rather giant leap forward for the ministry. "Clair." The intern finished for Hermione, she nodded and held the door opened for the girl to leave. She left the room, Hermione fastened her cloak.

"Damn, not even close to Rachel." She hissed under her breath and closed the door.

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Draco stood by his father, his head raised high as he counted out the figures that were appearing in front of him. He choose to apparete to the meeting... not quiet able to learn the preferred Death Eater way of travel in the black smoke... he had to admit though, as he watched yet more cloaked figures arrive, it did have a certain menacing look about it... He vowed that he would try harder to learn the magic, after his job today... if he could complete the task that was.

The mask he was forced to wear was starting to annoy him, his breath hung inside it, giving him a feeling reminiscent of suffocation, and his peripheral vision was lost, and the way it pressed over her ears made it hard to hear much... they were venerable like this... is that why The Dark Lord made jos servants wear them when in his presence? But _un maître injuste _as he was, Draco would not complain... all through school he dreamed of being her beside his father, unfortunately he had no idea what it would take to gain that position, never foreseeing that he would have to kill one of his only friends.

He had been watching him for some time now, Crabbe, he had no idea. He stood, calm... or as calm as one could be waiting for the presence of the Dark Lord just waited, looking up at the ceiling, or shuffling his feet about. Draco had been the first to arrive with his father, and they had been waiting for about half an hour.. it seemed longer, when nobody was speaking, or looking at each other. They were in quiet a boring room... he had no idea where it was, or if they were even in Brittan anymore at that. The room consisted of a hard worn wooden floor and stone walls. There were no windows, which gave Draco the trapped feeling of being underground, and the biting darkness was not calming either, he feared that something could sneak out of the shadows at any moment. There were a few candles floating about the centre of the room, which the crowd of Deatheaters seemed to circle around. Draco stared reproachfully at the candles, they weren't doing much to warm the room, and he was shivering under his cloak... yet he didn't know if it was from the eminent chill, or the fear piercing at his stomach. There was a murmur in the room, as his fellows seemed to become rather impatient, looking about and stamping their feet in an effort to release muscle cramps. Draco knew that his father wasn't moving, still... he knew that Malfoy's prouded themselves on their patience, and he was not going to show any weakness, he wasn't going to show anyone a hint that he would fail again... and he defiantly wasn't going to fail.

He shifter his eyes to the side, when he felt his father's hand clasp onto his shoulder, it was time. "Malfoy, Crabbe go to the back room, fetch the Masters cauldron." His father said harshly, pushing him forward. Trying not to stumble he took a quick step forward, walking to the backroom, with his head held high, which made it rather hard to see... meaning that he didn't see Crabbe follow, his bulking figure loomed behind him. He was able to hear his feet thudding clumsily on the hard floors from behind him

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Hermione sighed standing from her couching position, wiping her hands on her trouser leg. She looked down at the broken glass she was just examining, which was smeared by blood. "So we have determined that this is the boys blood?" Hermione questioned, one of the scene investigators... they were of course more than the usual muggle police force, the waving of wands about the room was making fast work of the analysis of the crime.

The intern that had accompanied her (she never had time for lugging paper or writing up the annoying reports now a days, just opting to bring along a random intern) look down at the bloodied glass, then back to Hermione and back to the floor. He was speechless, it was such a foreign concept for her... not having an opinion or a fact to spout. She shook her head and looked behind her, to the bed. "Is there any confirmation on who did this yet?" She snapped, looking about the people standing in the room, she was met by shaking heads.

She sighed heavily, each minute they wasted on the forensics, the closer to death the young boy became... or the closer he came to a fate worse than death. She looked out the window, the sun shining through the window was robbing the blood stains on the carpet of their dramatic effect, and the glittering of the broken shards of glass almost looked beautiful... "Come on, we're going outside."She said looking to her intern. She slipped her wand into her coat pocket and stepped outside the boys room.

As she walked down the darkened halls of the house she had to admit that this was a gut wrenchingly sad story, a boy being taken in his sleep by a monster that smashed through his window... and the parents would be rocked with guilt. She pitied them, but was also glad that she hadn't made the same mistake. She was unfortunately reminded of Ron, and his attempts to secure her as a partner. She loved Ron, and she did see a future with him, she _wanted_ to have children with masses or bushy red hair, and she _wanted_ to live in a cottage somewhere and teach them all she knew... but she also really _really _wanted for her children to be safe, she wanted the monster that killed her best friend dead, she wanted the threat of Dark Magic eradicated, she didn't want to live with a pit of fear in her stomach, she didn't want her children to be scared... She didn't want them to be robbed of a childhood like their mother, like their father. Hermione spotted the boy parents as she descended the staircase, the mother was clinging to her husband, wailing uncontrollably a mess of tissues on the table at which they sat. The father held a grim expression on his face and his eyes were misty, as he talked to one of Hermione's officers.

She lead the way outside, holding up a hand to shield her eyes in the glaring sunlight, which was intensified by the snow that was reflecting the white glow. They crunched through the ice to the side of the house, underneath the boys window. "More glass out here." Hermione stated, looking around at what tasks were being completed by the workers outside. Two were working together with wands out crouched down by the glass, trying to pull anything they could off it, but unfortunately it seemed clean. One was standing by the wall, looking up at the second floor of the house where the boys window was, casting a spell to detect magic, obviously trying to detect how the wizards were able to propel themselves to the top window. She glanced over to another worker, who, upon noticing Hermione's gaze on them, tried to busy themselves, looking down at the snow, melting it with a simple heating charm, to see if there was anything dropped underneath the ice. She frowned, about to call out to the man, but was stopped when her own name was called.

"Miss Granger," The call came out, she looked toward the sky, where the voice was heard from and saw a woman with her head sticking out the window. "Miss Granger." She repeated, as if to inform Hermione that it had actually been her speaking. The sun was even brighter from the view, Hermione had to shield her eyes with both hands as she looked up, the squint taking hold of her whole face as she scrunched her nose.

"Did you find something?" She questioned the woman.

"Yes, we found blood that doesn't belong to the boy." She said, she was obviously proud of her discovery, which was evident in the tone of her voice. "But we can't be sure who's blood it is until we can test it." She added, Hermione nodded, that fact was obvious... she was annoyed that the officer thought that she needed to be reminded of the fact.

She looked away from the window, the sun was really starting to annoy her outside, she decided that it would a good time to return to the ministry, watch over the blood sample. They would need to make a complicated and rather archaic potion. The _Salazar_ potion (named after its maker) was a potion that worked by changing colour to inform of blood status. It was, of course, used to determine that a family was of pure blood, but the ministry had been using it in relation to the magical creature attacks... if it was in fact werewolf blood, then they would know.

Hermione looked back to the officer which had been doing nothing earlier, honing in on him. "Have you found anything down here?" She asked briskly, really feeling that anymore of her time here would be wasted.

"No Miss Granger." He answered promptly, choosing not to look her in the eyes, but just at the ground, Hermione made a disapproving sound before saying,

"Well, keep on it, keep working hard." She said, before leaving and walking away, she would just need to talk to the Ministry officials that had arrived to modify the muggles memories. There was no reason for them to remember anything of the magical crew coming in to investigate... they didn't need to know of this world, especially when it seemed to be more and more likely that the boy would not be coming back home.

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"Crabbe" Draco spat harshly once the door was closed, he leant against one of the dirty walls in the cold and dark room. The boy had followed into the room, and walked straight to a rather large cauldron, Draco had to close the door behind the boy... after all Crabbe's father was out there, and he didn't need to see it.

Crabbe stopped what he was doing, standing straight (rather than his hunched bulking figure) and turning back to Draco. "Yes Draco?" He asked, his voice was timid... he had never heard that tone before. Draco could not reply, he was already freezing up. His plan was to get in, do it quickly and apparate back to the manor. He could feel his chest tightening and hastily fumbled with taking off his mask, working hard at keeping his face passive. When Draco had not spoken, Crabbe went back to his task of trying to pull the cauldron toward the door. It was quiet an aged, ornate and grande cauldron, it wouldn't have been easy to move it.

"Oh, are you a wizard or aren't you?" Draco snapped at his friend, he always grew impatient when people went about task in a distastefully muggle way. Draco watched as his friend cringed at his words, taking of his mask as well.

"Oh come on Malfoy, you knew I was never any good in charms." He snarled, it was obvious that after school, the dynamic of the 'friendship' had changed. Now that Crabbe had been trusted with his position of Death Eater he had learnt to speak his mind, and now thought that he was equal with Draco. Draco narrowed his eyes at the boy, this was only the third time since they had left school that the two actually spoke, and was in fact the first time they had spoken alone. Draco took three menacing strides toward the boy, covering the distance in the room easily. Unfortunately the effect that he had desired was lost, the boy was at least a foot higher than him, and twice as wide, Still, Draco knew that it was wit that won battles in the wizarding world, so his ability to cast fear into his old body guards mind was easy.

"Funny," He said in a low voice, a seething sneer on his lips, "You never spoke to me like that back at school." He said, narrowing his eyes further as he looked up to meet Crabbe's. 

"Well," Crabbe said, being able to find bravery from somewhere unknown by Draco, "Somehow I don't think you have as much power of me as you used to." He said, puffing out his chest, as if to show that he too was wearing Death Eater robes, "The Dark Lord views us as equals." He added, Draco actually smirked at the comment.

"You dolt." He started, "Of course he doesn't, he wa-" He started but was cut off by Crabbe.

"Don't call me that you little prat." Crabbe spat, "You couldn't even kill Dumbledore, the man you said you hated so much, so yea, I think that we are seen as equal in The Dark Lords eyes." He said, well all but shouted really.

Draco was lost for words for a moment; the outburst was so un expected, so un-like Crabbe. "Honestly Crabbe, do you really think the Dark Lord favours you? You've been spouting all sorts of things to people you shouldn't have, do you know what happens to people who can't keep a secret?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even, but it cracked. Crabbe's eyes went wide for a moment, as if he suddenly realised the situation he was in, that the door was closed, and that Draco was holding his wand up, as if he was ready to curse him.

"What?" He spluttered, "No." He said, how voice breaking at the word, a sweat forming on his brow. "No, Draco no!" He said again. He backed away from him, his hands held up, he wasn't going to make some daring quick move for his wand... even if he could whip his wand out he wouldn't have had much of a chance in a duel against Malfoy.

Draco took in a deep breath, closing his eyes... 'Just do it... just do it," He tried reasoning to himself, "This is my chance Crabbe, honestly, don't you see that I have to do this?" He asked, his voice was higher now, not the tone that he would have preffered. "If I don't do this, then I die, your going to die anyway." He said, he was speaking to himself more than his friend... who wouldn't have heard him anyway not with the loud sobs that were rakig his body.

Crabbe fell to his knees, looking to the ground, he was literally beggin now, tears streaming down his face, which was now twisted in grief... and fear. "Shit, Draco, please... shit shit shit." He said, rocking backward and foward. Draco thrust his wand toward the boy, willing himself to say what he needed... even thinking it...

"Shut up, just shut up!" He shouted, he hated those words... muggle curse words, it made him cringe hearing them. He sropped his wand arm to his side, his palm was so sweaty he almost dropped it. "Just, it has to be done." He said... Draco didn't know what would have been worse... Crabbe turning and saying that it was ok for Draco to curse him, that he deserved it, or for Crabbe to agree with him.

"Draco, please, please." He said through think sobs. Draco growled once more, holding up his wand again.

"Enough." He said, "I will not listen to you begging for your pathetic life anymore." He snarled... He took in a deep breath, held his head up high, and looking down at the boy cleared his throat.

With a flick of his wand his dicision had been made.


End file.
